


Figuring it Out

by BeginToFray



Series: (Issues) We've got the kind of love it takes to solve them. [1]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeginToFray/pseuds/BeginToFray
Summary: Villanelle appears on Eve's doorstep weeks after the stabbing.





	Figuring it Out

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is that little bit that slots into the beginning of my other story Digits. You don't massively need to have read that one first. In fact, you probably don't need to have read it at all. I have written all of these snapshots in the wrong order anyway, even I barely know what goes where now. Fair warning: This is wordy and not a lot happens.

The curtains are drawn against the street lamps outside and it’s late in Ealing when the doorbell of Eve’s house rings. She had ordered food only about fifteen minutes ago after admitting defeat on some papers from work. The Deliveroo guys were good, but fifteen minutes on a Saturday night is a record, even for them.

Eve closes the file that had been open on her lap and stands from the sofa. Her legs are stiff from where they have been awkwardly bent beneath her and she groans a bit as they come back to life when she stretches them out. She really should work at her desk, even when the sofa is calling. She hobbles slightly on her way to the front door, thankful for her thick socks as she feels the cold late autumn chill creeping up through the gaps between the floorboards. Niko had been meaning to get those filled since last winter but that wasn’t going to happen now and Eve was unlikely to get around to calling someone about it. The doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” Eve called as she got to the door.

She pulled the door open and felt a rush of cold from outside. And then her heart stopped in her chest.

“Surprise.”

Eve couldn’t breathe. There, on her doorstep, at 21.47 on a Saturday night in October stood the woman she had stabbed in Paris. The woman who she hadn’t seen or heard of since. The woman whose blood had pulsed out of her into Eve’s open, frantic hands, warm and thick and copper-smelling. The woman Eve couldn’t stop thinking about, then or now. She was standing on the doorstep staring at Eve with a smile on her face. Not the slightly crazed smile of a known psychopath, but a quiet smile, unsure but… Maybe hopeful?

Eve gasped. Her mouth opening to form words and then closing again when none made themselves available. One hand retained a white-knuckled grip on the door, and the other was now clutching uselessly at her chest as though attempting to annoy her heart back into beating.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” Villanelle paired her choices with a toothy smile and then an exaggerated frown.

That voice. Eve hadn’t expected to hear it again. Its accent lilting and tone playful. Still no words were forthcoming for Eve.

“I had hoped it was a good surprise but now I think I have accidentally killed you. I only like to kill people on purpose, Eve.”

Eve swallowed roughly and found that finally she had something to say.

“Have you come to kill me on purpose?”

Villanelle laughed. A genuine laugh that made Eve jump. She could feel her heart crashing back to life in her chest and could hear the blood thrumming in her ears. A psychopath on the doorstep can never be a good thing, even if said psychopath is laughing.

“Silly baby. I don’t want to kill you on purpose or by accident.” Villanelle shook her head, still smiling, still not easing Eve’s rapid pulse.

“But you want to hurt me?”

“No. I do not want to hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you. I stabbed you.” Eve spluttered, finally feeling some of her senses creeping back into action. Her phone was in her back pocket. If she could dial 999 without Villanelle noticing…

“Yes. And that was a shame; we were about to have very nice sex. But _you_ stabbed _me_. I should be asking if you want to hurt me, not the other way around.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Eve let out in a rush. Keeping the psychopath on her side was probably the best course of action.

“I know that.” Villanelle nodded, before continuing, “Are you going to invite me in? It is very rude to leave a guest on the doorstep.”

Now, that did not seem like the best course of action as far as Eve was concerned.

“What do you want?”

“I thought we could have dinner. Maybe watch a movie.” Villanelle shrugged.

“Niko will be home soon, he—” Eve stopped as Villanelle shook her head.

“He moved out weeks ago.”

“You’ve been watching me.” Eve stammered as the realisation hit.

“Yes. I think about you all the time. Do you still think about me?” Villanelle wasn’t smiling now. She was looking directly into Eve’s eyes, unblinking, and there it was again, that glimmer of hopefulness that Eve had never noticed before.

“I…” Eve swallowed again, cleared her throat and found herself speaking in a whisper. “Yes.”

Eve hadn’t been aware of the tension in Villanelle’s posture until she witnessed it leaving her body. The younger woman smiled once more, wider this time and Eve felt her lips twitch in return.  
  
  


“Delivery for Eve!” A shout was accompanied by a screech of bike brakes. The Deliveroo guy, who could only have been about eighteen years old, looked expectantly between the two women standing at the open door.

“Eve. That’s me.” Villanelle said in a perfect English accent as she took the proffered food containers from the teenager’s hands and slipped him what looked like a twenty-pound note.

“Yum. Come on sweetheart, let’s eat.” She said, accent not slipping a bit, as she passed Eve in the doorway, winked at her, and strode down the hall towards the kitchen.

Eve stared wide-eyed at the teen on the bike in her front garden.

“Uh… thanks.” She croaked.

“Have a good one!” he called, grinning, as he shoved the twenty into his pocket and turned his bike around, scuffing up the lawn as he went.  
  
  


Eve remained in place for a few moments, until the blinking red light of the Deliveroo kid’s bike had disappeared up the road and all was still again. She shuffled backwards into the hall and closed the front door. Closed herself in the house with a killer. She walked down the hallway, her sock-clad feet soft on the floors, and she had never walked so slowly in her life.

In the kitchen, Villanelle was standing at the counter pulling the lids off the plastic containers and examining the contents. She looked so comfortable that she may as well have been whistling a tune as she moved about the kitchen, collecting two plates from the cupboard and placing them in front of her on the counter. She didn’t look up as Eve edged in the doorway, but as usual, she knew exactly what was happening in the space around her.

“You know, Eve, it’s not good for you to eat so late at night. You should not go to bed on a full stomach. And you should not do other things on a full stomach either.” Villanelle raised her eyebrows suggestively at Eve across the kitchen counter.

“We’re not going to have sex!” Eve blurted out. Villanelle pouted and then shrugged.

“OK. Not tonight. I get it. You think we need to talk.” She continued dividing the food between two plates.

“Need to talk…” Eve muttered to herself, vacantly watching as Villanelle rifled through drawers, presumably in search of cutlery. What the fuck was going on here? How had the evening taken this turn? She was all ready to have something to eat maybe a glass of wine or three and fall into a fitful sleep, the same as every other night.

“Hmmm?” Villanelle hummed, “You do not think we need to talk?” she asked as she plucked two forks from the drawer. Eve continued to watch her.

“Ah!” Villanelle exclaimed and pulled a sharp knife from the same drawer and held it up to Eve.

“Would you like to hang onto this? For old time’s sake?” she smiled warmly at Eve, as though sharing an old joke between friends.

“Oksana.” Eve said evenly.

Villanelle threw the knife back into the drawer and shut it with a clunk, Eve felt her heart skip a beat entirely.

“Don’t call me that. I do not like it.” A darkness had fallen onto Villanelle’s features.

“Sorry. Villanelle.” Eve corrected herself slowly.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?” Eve continued her slow movements towards the side of the counter opposite Villanelle.

“I wanted to see you.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Why? You say you’re not here to hurt me, but… I _stabbed_ you.”

“I do remember that, Eve.” Villanelle chuckled. “I have the scar to prove it. I look shit in underwear now. Everyone used to look at my tits. Now they look at that ugly scar.” Villanelle sighed dramatically and Eve found herself wondering just how many people had had the pleasure – and she’s sure it is still a pleasure, scar or no scar – of seeing Villanelle in her underwear since that day in Paris. And there’s no twinge in her gut, and it’s certainly not a jealous pang.

“It hurt a lot.” Villanelle said quietly, food forgotten for the moment and her eyes back on Eve.

“I know.”

“Did it hurt you?” Those eyes were wide, imploring.

“Hurt me?”

“After you stabbed me. Did it hurt?”

For anyone else, that would have been an absurd question, but Eve had spent hours, weeks, months of her life analysing the woman before her, mostly from afar, but on occasion at close quarters. The only thing that Eve had learnt in that time was that Villanelle could not be predicted, but in some way there was often a grain of twisted logic in her thoughts and deeds. It was something that spoke to Eve, that she related to. Had it hurt after she had stabbed Villanelle? It wasn’t a question anyone else would ask. But yes, it had hurt like hell. It had hurt ever since. It hadn’t stopped hurting. It gnawed at her at night, it woke her up, it followed her around. It had hollowed her out and it ached.

“Yes.”

“Good.” A smile and a nod, and once again, Villanelle had sidestepped expectation.

“Good?”

“It hurt you because you like me. It hurt you, so I do not have to.”

Well, Eve supposed that would make sense in Villanelle’s world.

“I like you?”

“Yes. You think about me all the time. About what I’m doing. What I eat. Blah, blah, blah. You had a whole speech. Then you stabbed me and I wondered if the speech was bullshit.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know. But you were so silly, baby. You stabbed me when we could have had sex. I am very good at it, you know?”

Eve laughed. She was standing in her kitchen with an actual assassin, a psychopath whom she had chased across Europe and then stabbed in her own bed. Nobody was coming home to save her this time. She was unarmed and unable to defend herself. And she laughed.

“I’m sure you are.”

Villanelle beamed.

“I will show you?” She asked, as though offering to give Eve a tutorial on how to change the time on her car radio. Eve didn’t want to answer that particular offer with a no or a yes, and she didn’t want to consider that fact too closely at this particular minute either.

“I’ve never slept with a woman.” Yes, that seemed a safe response.

“That is not news! I have slept with many women who have never slept with a woman. It is fun.”

Eve frowned, that twinge was back again.

“Oh dear. Oh, you don’t like that thought, do you?” Villanelle chuckled and moved smoothly so that she was the same side of the counter as Eve. She sidled closer still and kept her eyes on Eve’s face, considering her, before her gaze slipped to Eve’s hair. It was wild as it often was when she was home alone. She had been raking her fingers through it whilst perusing files from the office all evening. Villanelle lifted a hand and Eve flinched. Villanelle’s eyes flicked back to meet Eve’s own and she held them there as her hand touched Eve’s hair, tucking a crazed strand of it behind her ear.

“I don’t like thinking of you with that moustache man either. It makes me very angry.” Villanelle spoke quietly, her eyes roaming Eve’s face.

Eve could smell her now. That same perfume that she had smelt before, it filled her senses in a way that only Villanelle could.

“He left me.”

“He made the right choice.”

“Oh wow, thanks.” Eve let out sarcastically. Villanelle rolled her eyes, her other hand creeping up to cup the side of Eve’s face gently.

“I think you should be with me.” She said, just above a whisper. Eve could feel her breath on her face. She stepped back, out of Villanelle’s reach.

“Right.” Eve scoffed, “And how would that work exactly? I go to work at the office every day and you go out and slaughter strangers for money?” Eve asked. “Sure, I can see it now, coming home after a long day and saying, ‘Oh hi Darling, how was work? Did you slit anyone’s throat today?’” she was starting to rant a little bit, but judging by the amused look on Villanelle’s face she wasn’t finding Eve’s reaction all that problematic.

“I would like that, you calling me ‘Darling’.”

“You’re insane.” Eve stammered, and then instantly regretted it.

“I am not insane. I have regular visits to the therapist.” Villanelle said sternly.

“What?”

“Let’s eat. The food is getting cold and I am very hungry.” She turned on her heel and collected the two plates from the counter along with the forks then headed to the living room.

“Normally I think it is nice to eat at the table and have pleasant conversations. But I am tired and you are tired, so let’s sit on the couch. I would like to hold you after.” Villanelle called over her shoulder as she moved Eve’s paperwork along the coffee table with her foot and replaced it with dinner plates.

“You want to hold me?” Eve spoke mostly to herself, her eyes darting every which way.

“Come!” Villanelle called. “Sit down.” She patted the sofa next to her. Eve felt herself moving towards the living room without having actively decided to. It was like an out of body experience. She could almost see herself crossing the space between the kitchen and the living room, rounding the sofa and sitting robotically next to Villanelle.

“Eat up.” Villanelle said, smiling at her and passing her a plate. “You have lost weight, you know. You are a bit skinny.”

“Sorry.” Eve said. Why did she say sorry? Sorry for being skinnier than Villanelle wanted her to be? What a weird thing to say.

“Don’t be. I am skinnier too. It has not been a nice time. I think my tits are smaller.” Villanelle complained. Eve glanced at the younger woman’s chest. She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t agree with Villanelle’s thinking, they still looked pretty good to her.

“Or maybe not.” Villanelle said smugly, and Eve shot her gaze upwards to catch Villanelle smirking at her. Eve shovelled a forkful of noodles into her mouth and averted her attention.

“I missed you, Eve.”

There was a moment’s pause as Eve contemplated her response to that. So far, it seemed, Villanelle had been nothing but honest with her. She wasn’t here to exact her revenge on Eve for the regrettable stabbing. She wasn’t here to hurt her. She was here because she wanted to see her, because she wanted them to be together. And what did Eve want? If she allowed herself to want freely, to really dig deep and be honest, what did she want? Well, if she could take the murderous occupation out of the equation, if she could just for a moment come to terms with the fact that this woman her stabbed her best friend, repeatedly, to death, if she could forget that she would have to give up her other friends, or else hide a significant portion of her life from them… Well, Eve wanted Villanelle too. She had from the very start. This woman was fascinating. She was outrageously smart and outrageously beautiful. She had a wonderful wit. She was funny in the kind of dark and twisted way that Eve adored. She was exciting. And Eve wanted her.

“I missed you too.” And it was true.

Villanelle simply nodded and continued devouring her food. Eve had only seen her eat once before and she hadn’t noticed then but Villanelle’s table manners – or sofa manners as the case may be – were… savage. It was oddly endearing. God, Eve was screwed. She cleared her throat.

“Shall I put a movie on?” Eve asked, returning her plate to the coffee table and making her way to the shelves which were mostly full of books, but held the few DVDs she and Niko had amassed.

Villanelle nodded emphatically, mumbling what may have been a ‘Yes’ around a mouthful of food larger than any self-respecting adult would take.

“Any requests?”

A shake of the head.

“OK…” Eve perused the shelf in front of her before settling on a choice. _Kill Bill_? Absolutely not. _All About Eve_? She could see the joke in it, but didn’t fancy the film. _Love, Actually_? Well. That seemed sort of fitting. But do cold-blooded killers enjoy the work of Richard Curtis? Worth a shot. She snagged the disk from its case and loaded it into the slot to the side of the TV.

When she returned to her seat on the sofa, Villanelle had finished inhaling her food and had set a completely cleared plate back on the table.

“I have not seen this movie.” Villanelle stated. She then remained transfixed on the screen until Eve too had, somehow, polished off her dinner despite feeling far from hungry. Villanelle took the plate from her and stacked it atop her own. She leant back against the sofa and lifted one arm expectantly. Eve stared at her, bewildered.

“I said I wanted to hold you.” Villanelle said as though explaining something simple to someone very stupid. Eve continued to stare at her uncertainly. Villanelle put her arm back by her side, her disappointment clear.

“We don’t have to. You don’t trust me still.”

“No! I… I mean, no, I don’t. Not fully. But I think I could, maybe. God, this is insane.” There was that word again, Eve winced, but Villanelle didn’t seem to mind it when it wasn’t attributed directly to her.

“We can figure it out.” Villanelle shrugged and returned her attention to Emma Thompson on the screen across the room. Villanelle, Eve decided, had a way of shrinking the most senseless situation into something that seemed manageable.

Eve took a deep breath and considered her options. She was right. This was insane. But everything about her life had been insane since the minute she got called in, hung-over and hungry, to that early morning meeting at MI5 what seemed like a decade ago now. She shifted nearer to Villanelle on the sofa and slowly reached for her wrist, lifting it cautiously until she could nudge her way beneath Villanelle’s arm and rest against her. Her cheek is stiffly leaning on Villanelle’s chest. The arm came down around her, tucking her in securely, and a thumb rubbed back and forth on her elbow. Eve let out her breath.

“We can figure it out.” She whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I have opened myself up to having to write yet another story to fill in a gap here. I feel like there are quite a lot of 'Villanelle watching Eve from afar' stories out there, so it's not high on my list, but if people particularly want to see it, then I could have a go at it. Otherwise, these two are refusing to leave me alone so I do have other ideas for them in this timeline if you guys want to read them.


End file.
